


White Boots With Golden Spikes

by Rhidee



Series: 2020 Drabbles [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Punk, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drabble, Kissing, M/M, PUNK AZIRAPHALE PUNK AZIRAPHALE, Post-Canon, Punk Aziraphale (Good Omens), So kinda au kinda not, They are in love and its p punk rock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhidee/pseuds/Rhidee
Summary: Aziraphale does the most punk rock thing of all: Love a demon, truly and fully.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: 2020 Drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663534
Kudos: 17





	White Boots With Golden Spikes

**Author's Note:**

> I lost it for the idea of punk aziraphale recently. The general idea is post not-pocolypse, Aziraphale decides to go even more native, and finds punk culture (specifically genderpunk, but that doesnt get discussed here). So, aziraphale, big old jean jacket of pins and buttons, big old clunky boots, and Crowley with a big old oh god oh fuck crush (2 electric boogaloo). Aziraphale goes to like, biker gangs for abused children type meetings, it's great.
> 
> (Should this be the end of a long slow burn of aziraphale slowly becoming punk and practicing radical acceptance? Yeah...)

"Hello, dear." Aziraphale smiled. The buttons on his jacket clanked as he moved, endless colors bringing the shine of the universe to mind. Messages of hope, of justice, of lives dreamed better. Shifting, swirling, as Aziraphale pushed Crowley softly into the wall. As the spikes of his boots slowly slid up Crowley's leg. As gently, radically, Aziraphale chose love. As Aziraphale, finally, breathtakingly, kissed him.

Crowley's eyes slid shut. His mouth slid open. There was rather a lot of sliding, really. Aziraphale sliding his hands to Crowleys hair. Crowley sliding his hands into Aziraphale's back pockets. They kissed like the world didn't dare burn. They kissed like secrets to a better reality were slipped between each other's lips, a prized cherished thing, that took risk and patience to get, but that you must never stop getting.

Aziraphale and Crowley kissed, against the wall in an insignificant place in Soho. And nothing much at all changed. That's the beautiful thing about love. It only changes what you let it.


End file.
